Long-Distance Love
by SylvieT
Summary: Not quite a post-ep for episode 13.03 Wild Flowers, more of a mid-ep. Sara and DB go out for breakfast and talk about long-distance relationships. Slight spoiler for beginning of season 13 as a whole, but especially for the episode itself. Some Grissom and GSR by proxy.


A/N: If you want to stay spoiler free and haven't watched season 13 yet, don't read any more.

I watched the episode online last night and I really liked it. I wanted to write something about Morgan, but I'm not sure how to write her yet, and then I was in the shower when I thought back to Sara's slightly forlorn but very puzzling – to me – phone message to Grissom. And then it hit me: this episode, _Wild Flowers_, aired last Wednesday on October 17th in the US, the CSIs work the night shift so it could have been the next dawn (October 18th) when they got to the rave and Sara called Grissom, and after a little research I discovered that _The Case of the Cross-Dressing Carp_ aired on October 18th 2007 in the US.

And I thought, "Wow."

With everything that happened the following year – Warrick's death and the whole _"If a relationship can't move forward, it withers" _debacle and then Sara's ensuing Sea Sheppard expedition and Grissom's inertia – and the fact that by the time Sara returned for the season 10 premiere in September 2009 she already wore a wedding ring, I realised that the only year they could have got married in October was back in 2007. I like the idea that they got married before it all went pear-shaped for them, and that they're trying hard to make their marriage work.

Anyway, since Grissom isn't around but Russell is, this is what came out of my musings.

Statistics at the end come from the Statisticbrain dot com/ long-distance-relationship and were allegedly recorded in July 2012.

The first scene is dialogue taken directly from the episode 13.03 _Wild Flowers_ and isn't mine. If it was mine, Grissom would have answered the damn phone.

* * *

Long-Distance Love.

* * *

GRISSOM'S VOICE: This is Gil Grissom. I'm unable to answer your call. Please leave a message.

SARA: Hello, Gilbert. Happy anniversary. Hope you're out there celebrating, and…it's official; time differences really suck. Look, I miss you. I'm going to try to call you back later. It's been a while, you know, since we really caught up. I love you.

* * *

"Who's for breakfast?" Russell asked, popping his head round the break room door. "My shout."

Nick, Greg and Sara shared hesitant glances.

"Oh, come on, guys! It's eleven am," DB went on, stepping fully into the room, "We've done all we can for now, and until we get some results we can follow up on, I want all of you to get out of here and get some rest, starting with breakfast. So who's with me?"

Nick gave a scoff. "It's not like we can even go to Frank's Diner anymore," he said, his head shaking.

Russell paused. "Well, that's true, but I know this little French place, this bistro on Tropicana. It's got really nice stuff. Why don't…we try there?"

Nick shook his head. "Count me out," he said. "I'm going to pop to PD, talk with Moreno and then I'll hit the sack."

"What about you, Greg?" Russell said, his brow rising hopefully.

"Sorry, but I told Archie I'd stay on a little longer and help him work through the mountain of cells we seized at the scene. See what they saw. If they saw anything."

"Well, Morgan and Finn are busy too, so…" Looking somewhat discomfited Russell nodded, then met Sara's eye pleadingly.

"I'm in," she said, and smiled at the look of gratitude Russell gave her. He didn't want to go home to an empty house and an empty bed and a slice of cold pizza any more than she did.

After parking their cars alongside each other in the small parking lot adjacent to the bistro Sara and DB went in, choosing a table by the window and sitting across from each other. There was a queue of people waiting for take-out at the counter, but the sit-down side of the bistro was strangely free of patrons. Ambiance music was playing quietly in the background. After a quick peruse of the menu the waitress came and they placed their orders.

"Sara, you okay?" Russell asked, adding mildly when she lifted a puzzled frown to him, "only you've kind of been checking your phone every minute or so ever since we got here. I mean, if you've got somewhere else to be—"

Sara sighed, and replaced her cell in her purse. "It's a…my wedding anniversary today," she explained, her eyes averting self-consciously to her untouched cup of coffee.

"Oh," he said in a wince, "I'm sorry." He reached across the table and briefly covered her hand with his, patting warmly. "That's tough."

Sara nodded her head at him, but could not make herself look up. When he'd released her hand she picked up her cup and brought it to her lips, and he followed suit.

"How long?" he asked, after he'd taken a sip of his latte.

Sara took in a deep breath which she let out slowly, and shrugged. Then putting the cup down, she looked up and gave him a small smile. "Four years," she answered, her smile widening on remembering Grissom's impromptu and very much unexpected proposal amongst the bees and the quiet wedding afterwards. Her smile soon faded though, as she realised that since then they hadn't spent one wedding anniversary on the same continent, let alone together.

"You've spoken to him?"

Sara shook her head. "No. But I spoke to his machine," she replied and scoffed, her eyes lowering. "That's all we seem to be doing these days. Correspond through machines."

"Did you know there is an acronym for people like us?"

"LDR?" she guessed, and he nodded.

"Where's he at this time?" he asked, curious.

"India," she said, "University of Agricultural Sciences in Bangalore, in the south of the country. Their entomology department is in the fore front of Tropical Insect Science, or so he tells me."

"Well," Russell said brightly, "The day's still long. You never know."

She flashed him a brief, unconvinced smile. The waitress came and set down their orders in front of them. Sara picked up her knife and fork and began cutting into her omelette.

"I don't know how you've managed to cope for so long," Russell said after a while, chewing on his eggs Benedict, and Sara looked up. His eyes were on his plate as he spoke. "I mean, away from each other, like that. Must be tough. Barbara's been gone six weeks and…" he let his words drift off in a sigh and a shake of the head, then looked up, meeting her gaze, and she knew he felt it too, the painful mix of love, longing, and resentment. "I worry she won't be coming back."

"She will," Sara said decisively, mid-mouthful.

Russell smiled, nodding, but he didn't look any more convinced than she had moments ago when he'd been trying to be cheerful. He returned his attention to his food and Sara did the same. "You know, I'm not so sure," he mused at last, and she glanced up. "I mean, we've never been apart longer than a few days before, not in the thirty-five years we've known each other."

"Thirty-five years? Wow," she remarked quietly, and picked up her cup which she brought to her lips.

Russell gave a nod at the cup, and Sara realised he was indicating her wedding ring. "So, are you a fruit or a flowers kind of gal?" he asked, grinning, and Sara's eyes narrowed uncertainly. "You know," he explained, waving his fork about, "Fruit or flowers; the four-year anniversary traditional gift."

Sara's face lit up with a wry smile. "I'm more of a…plant person."

He let out a chuckle and reached for a piece of eggy toast from his plate. "Of course, you are," he said, taking a big bite of it, "How could I forget?" His gaze became wistful and a little distant. "I got Barbara a dozen red roses on our fourth wedding anniversary. I thought it was the most romantic thing ever." He grinned. "Our anniversary falls in December so it cost me a small fortune, but it was worth it just to see the look on her face."

Sara's brow pinched suddenly as she did some quick math. How could she have been thinking she and Grissom had been married four years when in fact it was five? She swallowed her sudden uneasiness and flicked her eyes to her plate. It was okay, right, to get that wrong? It was like forgetting one's age; people did that all the time. It wasn't like she'd forgotten the actual date, or to call him, she figured, idly wondering what symbolised five years of marriage. And if she hadn't called him first, she pondered now, would he even have remembered that _today_ was their wedding anniversary?

"Sara?" Russell called quietly, drawing her out of her stupor.

Her eyes snapped up, and she mustered a smile. "She will come back," she said, hoping this was the right response, hoping she was keeping a lid on her own inner turmoil. Her eyes lowered self-consciously and she brought another mouthful of food into her mouth.

"That's kind of you to say so," he said. "But, Seattle's where her home's always been, and then there's Maya and Katie, and…"

Sara looked up, her fork poised halfway to her mouth. "_You're_ here," she stated resolutely.

"We'll see," he said a little despondently, nodding as he held her gaze. "Thank _you_."

Sara finished her omelette, then put down her fork and picked up her cup. "This situation we're in," she said, staring at her cup, "I mean, me and Grissom. This long-distance relationship…I kind of brought it on myself."

"How do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.

She looked up and shrugged. "I mean that Gil would still be here if I hadn't left in the first place."

"Would he?" Russell questioned gently, and shrugged. "You don't know that. I'm sure you didn't make him do anything he didn't want to do."

"No, I didn't, but…" she sighed, "he left to be with me. And I couldn't stay to be with him. And now…I miss him. I miss him every minute of every day. I miss what we used to have, what I took for granted for so long, what I left behind never to be found again. I—"

"You've still got the love you feel for each other," he cut in quietly, "and that's everything."

Sara nodded, then smiled and they lapsed into silence, each pondering what he'd just said. After a while staring at her now-lukewarm cup of coffee Sara brought it to her lips, finishing it.

"You want a refill?" Russell asked as soon as she put the cup down, already searching for the waitress with his eyes.

"No, thank you," she replied. "I'm going to head home. I need to walk Hank, and then grab a few hours' sleep before I walk him again and clock back on. I'm going to come in early, see if we're closer to IDing our vic."

Russell nodded, then reached across to pat her hand again. With a smile, she pulled her hand out, grabbing her purse and opening it on the table, and Russell placed his hand on her purse, stopping her. "This one's on me," he said.

"I'll buy next time."

His face lit up with a smile. "I look forward to it. Us two, we're going to have to stick together, right? If we want to beat the statistics and make it through this long-distance crap. Anyway," he went on in a sigh before she could reply, "Thank you for the chat."

"Thank you for breakfast," Sara said, acknowledging his words with a nod and a smile.

"My pleasure."

Sara drove home on autopilot and pulled up on the drive next to Grissom's Mercedes. She killed the engine and stared at his car for a while before giving her head a shake and heading inside. Hank was waiting behind the door, eager and welcoming. Sara took a moment to return his affection at the door before flicking her gaze to the answering machine. The red light showed no messages, and it was with a heavy heart that Sara swapped her purse for the dog lead on the hall table.

"Come on," she said, "Let's go for a walk to the park."

When they got back some forty minutes later a UPS truck was parked outside the townhouse. Sara quickened her step and found the delivery guy at the door, ringing the doorbell.

"Hi," she called, "Can I help you?"

The man looked round over his shoulder and smiled. "You, Mrs Grissom?"

"Yes," she said.

"I got a packet for you," he said, and held out his clipboard. Sara took the pen and after signing her name on the line took the proffered packet. "Have a nice day."

"You too," she echoed absently, as she stared at the familiar handwriting on the front, her heartbeat quickening in anticipation. "Trust him not to forget," she told Hank a little sadly, as she let herself and Hank into the house.

The dog made a beeline for the water bowl in the kitchen while package in hand Sara moved over to the lounge, sitting down on the couch while using her nails to break off the scotch tape sealing it. There was no note inside; just a bubble-wrapped item and when she peeled that off, and then the layers upon layers of tissue paper she unveiled a small Indian wooden box.

Wood, she realised with a wobbly smile, wood symbolises five years of marriage.

Sara knew the trinket box would be an original and one of a kind, and that Grissom would have chosen it with the utmost care and thought. She ran gentle fingers over it and studied the intricately hand carved etchings on it then slowly opened its hinged lid, checking inside for a note. There wasn't one, of course; the gift _was_ the note, as she well knew. Her eyes welled, and when swallowing she looked up she noticed that the light on the answering machine was flashing. She stood up and went to press the button.

"Hi, honey, it's me," came his distant, yet cheery voice, and she blinked back her tears, "Happy anniversary. I just tried your cell but…there was no reply. You must be busy. I'm sorry I missed your call earlier." There was a pause and a sigh. "Anyway, I got to go. I'll try again later, okay? Or try me. I love you."

Hank joined her side and instinctively she dropped her hand to his muzzle, stroking. Forty per cent of long distance relationships in the US end in a break-up, the stats claimed, and Sara vowed that hers and Grissom's marriage would form part of the remaining sixty per cent. And with that certainty in mind she pressed the button on the answer phone and once again listened to the warm timber of his voice.


End file.
